Fragile China Dolls
by HelloLovelyChick
Summary: AU; "It's a closet with multiple China Dolls, and each one has a name written in that same sloppily handwriting with probably the same red crayon... The names belong to those victims, except the one he doesn't recognize; Spencer Hastings"
1. Freaking Preludes

**Fragile China Dolls**

**/-+-+-/IMPORTANT THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW BEFORE READING\+-+-+\**

**Rated M;** language, sexual scenes, and other things that you'll see though out

**AU;** Toby is a police officer, Spencer is a lawyer, Maya is alive, Jenna was not Toby's stepsister, Mona was never A, and A was never blackmailing the girls

**Set in New York;** I haven't ever been to New York but I am doing my research

**\+-+-+\The Summery in 255 Character or Less/-+-+-/**

**AU;** "It's a closet with multiple China Dolls, and each one has a name written in that same sloppily handwriting with probably the same red crayon... The names belong to those victims, except the one he doesn't recognize; Spencer Hastings"

**/-+-+-/Freaking Preludes\+-+-+\**

Toby Cavanaugh was sipping on a cup of black coffee as he approached the scene of a crime. His partner, Detective Darren Wilden, was already at the scene sipping his own cup of coffee. Wilden had been on the force a lot longer than Toby and hated that Toby was his partner. Or maybe the better way to put that was that he hated having a rookie, as he liked to call Toby, as his partner.

"So Rookie, what do you see?" asks Wilden as Toby approaches him. Toby looks down at the victim who is lying out on the ground underneath the New York part of the George Washington Bridge

"Woman, mid-twenties, cause of death looks to be strangulation," replies Toby, eyeing the body over as he pulls on a pair of rubber gloves. Wildon nods his head and stands up to go talk to the homeless man who found her. Toby's careful in checking her pockets, not wanting to ruin anything that could be evidence. Her jean pockets are empty of anything that isn't lint, but in one of her jacket pockets he found a newly folded white piece of paper, and Toby already knows what it means. "Wildon! She's got a note!"

"What does it say?" asks Wildon, who is next to Toby in a second. Toby took care to unfold the paper so as not to rip it. Neither he nor Wildon were surprised to see the sloppy handwriting in red crayon.

"She wasn't the girl her parents wanted her to be. She always said yes, even when she should have said no. – A," read Toby, suddenly feeling even worse for this girl. A was a serial killer who stalked their victim before they killed them and left a note exposing a secret. Some were relatively tamed, others were horrific, but they were all true.

"So her secret is she was a whore?" asks Wildon, frowning.

"There are a lot of things this could mean," replies Toby, hating how Wildon can so easily use words like that about a dead woman. Toby wouldn't say that he wasn't thinking the same thing, but it could also mean that she said yes drugs, that she would get taken advantage of by being a sweet girl, and maybe even that she said yes to helping people steal. He refused to believe that it out right meant she was a whore, as Wildon put it.

"Whatever you want to believe Cavanaugh," replies Wildon. Toby rolls his eyes; he knew that Wildon was always going to dismiss him. He couldn't change Wildon's point a view even if he wanted too, all he could do was deal and live with it.

Thirty minutes later Toby was sitting at his desk drinking another cup of coffee. He's pouring over some of the other A cases; there are 25 victims in total, including the newest victim, each one was killed differently and they all had those notes. All he could get was photos of the bodies and notes, and they all made him sick. He doesn't get how the hell anyone could do this to anyone else? All the deaths where horrific, some would make even the strongest of stomachs clench, but the worst part was that A always made it so you could make out a face. There wasn't any real connection between the victims, other than A stalking them and they were in New York at the time of their death. Maybe he should map it out, that way he could see if that was a correlation. Most killers stayed in a certain area when they went on their killing spree. He'd need to ask the chief if he could use the bulletin board to pin up a map.

"Chief?" asks Toby, gently knocking on the door to her office. The Chief was an older woman with greying auburn hair and piercing dark eyes. She's a lot nicer then she seems, Toby reminds himself when those eyes start to pierce at him.

"Yes, Detective Cavanaugh?" asks the Chief.

"I was wondering if I could use a bulletin board so I can put up a map and map out where A has left bodies and were the victim last was seen," asks Toby.

"Go right ahead, just don't use the one in the break room or the bigger conference room," replies the Chief, motioning Toby to leave the room. Toby nods and quickly heads to the smaller conference room, which was mostly used for partner to quietly and privately talk about cases.

It took Toby twenty minutes to find a big enough map of New York and tack it up along with all the locations where bodies were found and the locations where the same bodies were found. What Toby found was that A only tended to stay a mile or two from where they took the bodies, and that locations did form an awkward circle. So either A worked or lived somewhere in that area, but now the question was where and which.

"Any clues?" asks Wildon, causing Toby to jump a little. He didn't expect Wildon to come into the room, to try and help him or to even see what Toby was doing.

"A either works or lives in that area of Washington Heights," replies Toby, pointing to the map.

"Okay, now what do you want to do with this knowledge?" asks Wildon, his arms crossed. Clearly he didn't see the point in Toby's map, and that was okay for Toby.

"If we keep an eye out in that area then maybe we might be able to find that hooded person that has been spotted in last known locations a couple of times," replies Toby, referring to dozen or so witness statements that mention they saw that various victims had been seen leaving with a person in black hoddie, "Maybe we might even be able to save the next person."

"Feel free to drive around the neighborhood," said Wildon, "I just hope no one calls you in for it."

That's what he did. Toby rode his bike all over Washington Heights, even earning a few nodes from some woman who noticed him. Most girls saw him and figured he was some bad boy, which wasn't Toby at all. Yes he drove a motorcycle (which he worked on himself), yes he wore a leather jacket, yes he did go to reform school for getting into fights in high school, and yes he did explode when he got angry, but it took a lot for him to get angry enough to explode, he regretted every fight he'd been in during High School, and he'd been told often by people that he was a good guy. One girl even broke up with him when she realized that he wasn't the bad boy she had thought him to be.

Though there was one woman who sparked his interest; she had long flowing chestnut hair, fair skin, and milk chocolaty brown eyes. She always would walk past him and into a café every morning like clockwork. Toby thought he recognized her, but he couldn't place from where, she could be anything to him from a suspect to some lawyer. He wants to approach her, but he doesn't. He always stays on the bike, waiting for the light to change green, and he always smiles underneath his helmet quietly noting that he hadn't seen her in the same clothes once. Once and a while he did see her repeat shoes, but never repeats on clothes. He also notes that she was often on the phone, and when she was she looked angry and or agitated, which made her look extra cute. He didn't even know her and yet he was so curious and infatuated with her.

He always watchs her stealthily, but then he notices a black hooded figure standing by a tree. He can't see who the person is watching, but his gut tells him that this is A. He looks at the light, still seeing that it was red. He pretends to be checking his phone, but instead he snaps a picture of the figure. His phone is put away before the light changes to green. He is able to catch one last look at the woman in the café before he has to speed off.

The next day he goes into the café, orders a cup of coffee and takes a seat near a window, pretending to just enjoy some coffee as he watchsthe people go by. He sees the woman come in and faintly he can hear her ordering her coffee, but he just keeps watching the world outside. Once again he sees the hooded figure, just watching the café, meaning the next victim was in this room with him, or at least somewhere near the café. He reaches for his phone, calling Wildon.

"What'd you want Rookie?" snaps the older detective over the phone.

"My bike won't start, I need a ride," Toby lies, not wanting to bring unwanted attention to himself.

"Then call a cab, I've got work," Wildon snaps again.

"Can you please just come and get me," begged Toby, knowing that he needed Wildon in order to make any kind of a move on the hooded figure.

"How much?" asks Wildon.

"I'll pay for your gas, just please."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," announced Wildon, before he hungs up. Toby lets out a sigh and starting watch the world outside again, keeping the figure in focus. When Wildon does show up, it's painfully obvious that he's a cop. Even if he wasn't a cop, Toby would be able to spot a cop from a mile away.

"Thanks man," says Toby, he leans in close to Wildon and whispering, "There is a hooded figure who has been watching this café for over an hour and he was here yesterday."

"Let me guess you think it's A," replies Wildon, rolling his eyes.

"Well I bet if you started to head in their direction, focused on them, they'll run," replies Toby, "And that'll be very suspicious, don't you think?" Wildon lets out a sigh, but follows through with Toby's idea. He leaves the café, Toby in tow, and starts walking towards the figure, who bolts once Wildon crosses the street. Both men take off after the figure, with the chase ending at an old, falling apart house.

"You think this is A's hideout?" asks Wildon, slowly approaching the house, gun in hand.

"This is where we lost them, so I'd think so," replies Toby, his own gun out and in hand.

"This is the NYPD, open up," calls Wildon, knocking on the door. After a third knock the door creeps open. "Your door is open, so we're coming in!" Slowly both of them entered into the house. "I'll head up stairs, you check down here. Be careful."

Toby moves slowly, keeping his back guarded and making sure to check every room. Every door was unlocked, but one, which Toby has to kick open. It's a closet with multiple China Dolls, and each one has a name written in that same sloppily handwriting with probably the same red crayon. Toby doesn't touch a single doll, but he does recognize the names on all of them, except for one. The names belong to those victims, except one the he doesn't recognize; Spencer Hastings. Quickly Toby pulls his phone out and calls the station, letting them know that they need people here ASAP.

**\+-+-+\|/-+-+-/**

A pair of eyes watchs as the police remove things form their once home. The police have their victims now, has their dolls. A small smile creeps onto their face as they think about how now the police will try to intervene. They feel excitement at the thought of maybe getting to put an officer's name on one of their dolls, and that thought is just too tempting for them not to do. The police will put someone in their way; then they'll just have to kill them too. They can't help but wonder how blood will look on that shade of police blue. This game just got so much more fun.

**/-+-+-/|\+-+-+\**

"Can you explain to me how eating gallons of chocolate cookie dough fudge brownie ice cream is going to make Caleb pay for breaking you heart?" asks Spencer, deciding that it is better to not try to pray the current gallon of ice cream that Hanna is digging into out of said girl's hands. Hanna and Caleb had just broken up, again. They'd been in this on and off again relationship since high school, which is so unhealthy for both of them. Right now they were off and Hanna had called Spencer telling her she needed all her friends. So now Spencer is sitting on Hanna's bed, along with Aria, Emily, and Emily's girlfriend, Maya. Hanna lived with Emily and Maya, at least Hanna did when she and Caleb were off.

"Who said anything about wanting to make Caleb pay?" asked Hanna, before spooning some ice cream into her mouth.

"You did, about ten minutes ago," says Aria, giving Hanna a smile as she pats Hanna's leg.

"Aria put your ring back on," says Hanna, "Taking it off to try and make me happy isn't working. It's actually making me feel sadder." Aria sighs, pulling her engagement ring out and placing it on back on her finger. Aria's fiancée, Ezra, had proposed to her a month ago, and they already were in honeymoon mode. In fact this was the first time any of the girls had seen Aria since the proposal. "And I didn't mean I was going to make him pay! I meant that he's going to have to pay for breaking my heart, because he'll never find someone like me… right?"

"I promise you sweetie, you are one of a kind," says Maya, smiling at Hanna. Hana smiles back, before scooping another scoop of ice cream into her mouth.

"Hanna do you remember how you always want us to tell you when you might get too fat?" asks Spencer, who is instantly hit with a pillow by the other girls.

"But you're right, I do need to stop eating this," says Hanna, giving the ice cream to Spencer, who mumbled a thank you and went to place it in the freezer. Spencer felt a buzz in her pocket. She pulled the phone out and couldn't help her smile. It was from her boyfriend, Wren. His text simply read 'I love you and I'll see you tomorrow'. She couldn't help but read the message in his British accent in her head.

Her life felt perfect overall. She had been made partner at Sullivan & Cromwell a month or so ago, she has a boyfriend who loves her, and she owns a very nice apartment in the Upper East Side. Everything was falling perfectly into her life plan, and she loved it. The best part out of it all was that her best friends had also wound up in New York too. Aria and Ezra had moved up here after Aria was accepted into The Art Institute of New York City; Ezra was a teacher at a private school and Aria was a photographer and painter. Hanna had moved up with Caleb during a time when they were together; Hanna now owned a clothing store in SoHo (which she loved since she now knew a few designers who were always willing to give her some free samples). Emily and Maya moved up after Emily was offered a job coaching a team at the same school as Ezra was teaching at (of course a lot of places wanted her after she got a silver medal in Beijing); Maya was working in a bakery while Emily was coaching. For Spencer things couldn't get more perfect.

"Spencer!" screams Hanna from the other room. Spencer hadn't even realized that she had zoned out.

"Sorry, coming!" replies Spencer, heading back to Hanna's room.

"Where did you take the ice cream? Antarctica?" snaps Hanna, clearly in the angry Hanna mode.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about how I wouldn't be nearly as happy if you guys weren't here with me," replies Spencer, earning a smile form Hanna, who quickly opens her arms up for hug from Spencer. Spencer gives her the hug and the rest of the night is all about boy bashing and talking. When Spencer does get home from Hanna's, she barely manages to lock her door before she passes out on her bed.

Spencer needs coffee like an addict needs their drugs. So the first thing she always does is make herself a pot of coffee. Then she gets dressed and ready for work, while sipping on said coffee, and as always she does end up at the only café that can make a strong enough cup of coffee for her taste. She wished that the coffee places near her firm knew how to make strong cups of coffee, so that she didn't have to go all the way into Washington Heights for coffee, which was almost a half hour out of her way, but she made do. At least in her office she could make somewhat decent coffee.

Currently she's working on a divorce case. She was on the husband side, with whom she felt sorry for. His wife was trying to take everything from him, and while he didn't care if she got all the money and the house, he did still want custody of his kids and his company, both of which the wife wanted. So when Spencer got into her office she checked her messages to see if the wife's attorney and sent her any demands that should be passed along to the husband. This was a common occurrence; since neither could legally speak to the other. Spencer rolled her eyes as she clicked to open the wife's attorney's email. The wife was offering to let the husband keep all rights to his company and she was also offering him once a week visiting rights to the kids. Spencer frowned, not understanding how this woman didn't understand that the husband wanted his kids. Spencer was certain that if it came down to it, the husband would choose his kids over everything else. Spencer quickly took a look at her clock; before she called the husband to tell him what his still wife had had her lawyer send.

It was a ten minute conversation, in which Spencer discovers how right she was. By the end of it the husband has told her to tell his wife's attorney that his wife can have everything, but the small town house and the kids. Spencer agrees to send it, cautioning that once it was sent he would have to give up everything but that town house and the kids. The husband assured her that as long as he had his kids, he was a happy man. So Spencer sent the note to the other attorney, part of her knowing that the wife wasn't going to agree to anything unless it was that she got last thing he owned. Spencer sipped some of her coffee, waiting quietly for the response back, since she knew that both she and the other attorney just wanted to get this case over with. A gentle tapping on her door pulled her away from her computer screen.

"There is a very cute detective here to see you, Miss Hastings," says Amy, Spencer's secretary.

"You can send him in," says Spencer, rolling her eyes at Amy. Next thing Spencer knows a tall handsome man with brown hair and baby blue eyes. Spencer had to silently remind her self of her boyfriend, Wren. "What can I do for you Detective…"

"Cavanaugh," he says, "And I'm here to ask if you've seen any suspicious people following you."

"No, I can't say I have. Why?"

"You've heard of the serial killer A?"

"Who hasn't?"

"Well we found A's hideout, and there was a closet with a room filled with dolls with names written on them."

"Congratulations, but what does that have to do with me?"

"All the names belonged to a victim, but one, yours."

"So you think A's after me?" asks Spencer, laughter in her voice. She had no secrets for A to expose.

"Yes we do, and we'd like to, with your consent, place you under an officer's protection," he says. Spencer shakes her head, this was ludicrous.

"Detective Cavanaugh, I have no secrets to hide from you or from anybody. A has nothing to expose, so they have no reason to stalk and kill me," she states, "So you don't have to place my under any protection."

"Not even one officer to just patrol your home and work?" he offers. Spencer is surprised; he looks to be begging for her to say yes to just some protection. In all her life she'd never had someone look like they want to protect her so much from something that wasn't really going to happen to her.

"If you want to waste the police budget on this; then go right ahead," she says, not wanting to agree outright to the protection. The smile the detective gives her makes her heart flutter in an odd way, something she hadn't felt before. Not even with Wren. He gave her a nod with a simple have a good day exit greeting, and left her office. She couldn't help but smile at the officer.

Around noon there is another tapping at her office door, this time it's her boyfriend Wren, holding a bag in his hand.

"I figured you would try to work though lunch, so I thought I'd bring you something while I had a chance," he offers, in his beautiful British accent.

"Thanks, do you want to sit and eat with me?" she offers, hoping to have some alone time with him. Wren places the bag on her desk.

"I wish I could, but I have to get back to work," he replies, leaning into give a kiss to her cheek. She smiles at the feeling of his lips on her skin, "Maybe I'll see you later?"

"I hope so, it just depends on what my work load is later," she replies, wishing that she could confirm that he would be seeing her later at his own apartment, "I'll call you when I leave work and maybe you'll be up when I leave."

"We'll see," replies Wren, giving her a quick kiss before he leaves her office. Spencer smiles after him, before checking her email to see if that attorney had gotten back to her. He had and the wife was actually not happy with that offer. Spencer couldn't help but roll her eyes at that.

Spencer isn't able to leave her office until almost midnight. She had been doing research on that wife, planning on seeing if there was something she could use to help the husband. She's the last one out, like normal, so she locks everything up, and says goodbye to the janitor. She does call Wren, hoping that maybe he was still up. He never answers her call though, it goes to voicemail. She leaves a message to tell him about what she had been doing until midnight, and that she was hoping to see him soon. From the corner of her eye she sees a car, probably the one the detective had said he wanted to have watch over her. So she starts to walk in the direction of the train that will take her home. She hears a quite revving behind her.

"Would you like a lift home?" asks a motorcyclist. Spencer turns to politely decline, but the cyclist pulls the helmet off. It's Detective Cavanaugh. Spencer looks back where that car had been, but it's gone.

"Um… sure," she replies, suddenly feeling very unsafe walking home. Detective Cavanaugh gives her his helmet, as she gets on the bike and gives him her address.

"You'll have to hold on tight," he said back to her, before he started to ride off. Spencer latches on to him, fearful of falling off. He manages to hit all the green lights, and it seems like they're at her apartment faster then she would have though.

"Thank you," she says, returning his helmet to him, "Detective Cavanaugh."

"You can call me Toby, Miss Hastings," he offers, giving her a smile.

"I think it's better if I call you Detective," she replies, "I don't think my boyfriend would like me calling you Toby."

"If that makes you feel better…" She can see that he's a little disappointed that she's taken, but he still gave her a sweet smile, "Have a good night Miss Hastings, and try not to work as late from now on. If A is after you then you need to stay in groups of people and away from places where you would seclude and alone."

Spencer gave him a nod in agreement, before she gives his cheek a quick peck.

"Thank you, again," she says, before she bolts inside her building and up to her apartment, unsure of why she did what she had just done.

**\+-+-+\Author Note/-+-+-/**

I have no clue where this came from, but here it is and I hope you guys enjoy.

Wren and Spencer won't last, before I get beheaded for starting this with them together. Spoby is the final outcome, because they're awesome and like perfect.

If I messed up any facts or anything about New York, tell me so I can fix it!

I'd **love** to hear **feedback positive or negative**, but please, for the love of whatever you find holy, **REVIEW**!

I do believe that most stories are victims of **bystander syndrome**. You assume that someone else will, never thinking that maybe no one will.

So always **REVIEW** and **I'll love you unconditionally** if you do so!


	2. Raggedy Anne's Threats

**Fragile China Dolls**

**/-+-+-/Raggedy Anne's Threats\+-+-+\**

Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one.

They hope she'll like this present, they're working so hard.

So far she's different and they like that, and they'll have to thank her for this.

She made it all the more fun by running to her little Detective.

Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two. Knit one. Purl two.

**\+-+-+\|/-+-+-/**

Toby had originally thought it being her name on that doll had been a sign that he was supposed to know her and that it meant he would catch A save her life and they would run off into the metaphorical sunset, but now it felt more like a cruel twist of fate. Yes he is going to catch A, but there was no chance of him riding into any sunset with her. Currently, though, he is sipping a cup of coffee, while going over the case files related to A, again. This might have been his biggest case to date, but this wasn't his first case. He knew that somewhere in this was a clue that would lead him to something else, but finding it was the problem. A has always been good at covering their tracks, but eventually everyone messes up. Eventually everyone makes a mistake.

"The pictures aren't going to change the more you look at them," says Wildon, taking a seat at his own desk. Toby rolls his eyes, before going back at the photos. He knows that Wildon is right, but that doesn't mean there isn't something he's missed because he maybe hadn't wanted to see it. But now he wants to see everything that he can see. Something about Spencer makes him want to save her. "Listen Rookie, I know you want to catch this big bad guy, but looking over these photos aren't going to help you."

"Possibly not," replies Toby, picking up the photo of A's first victim; Alison DiLaurentis. The girl's head was beaten in with an unknown object, and her note had said 'She killed her twin. Want to know where she hid the body? –A'. In truth it was the only secret they hadn't been able to fully prove (they'd found that Alison did have a sister who had been missing for years, but there was not proof that Alison had killed her sister Courtney, or that Courtney was even dead). "Why do you think A chooses who they choose?"

"Probably just the first person they see after they're done with their previous victims," replies Wildon, "Why? You want know why that chick is next."

"Her name is Spencer, and she seems really nice."

"So you want to sleep with her?" Toby doesn't respond, he just pushes himself away from his desk and reminds himself that Wildon's a jackass. He grabs a cup of coffee from the break room, wondering why there never is good coffee and why he is drinking it. He also thinks about Spencer and how all the victims aren't connected, at least there wasn't one that anyone could find. That's when something clicks. Toby moves back to his desk to grab his keys. Twenty minutes later he's being told that he'll have to wait, since Spencer's in a meeting, and so he waits.

"Pardon me Amy, but is it okay if I pop in to give Spencer some lunch?" asks a man with a British accent, twenty minutes into Toby waiting.

"Normally it would be, but she's meeting with Mr. Danes, Mrs. Danes, and Mrs. Danes' attorney," replies Amy, smiling up at him.

"Damn," he says, "Well would you mind giving her this?" Toby watches as the man places a brown bag on Amy's desk.

"Sure, and I'm sure she'll love it," replies Amy, smiling with the biggest smile Toby had ever seen. She probably had a thing for this British guy, like all girls seemed to when they heard a British accent.

"I hope so," replies the man, before he leans in close, "Who's the bloke sitting over there; Spencer taking a pro bono case?"

"Spencer didn't tell you?" asks Amy, her mouth dropping in shock. Toby wonders if they knew he could hear them, or if they even care that he can hear them.

"Tell me what?" asks the man, a frown taking over his face. Toby couldn't stop the slight happiness at knowing that Spencer hand told this man (who Toby assumes is the boyfriend) about being placed under police protection because a killer was after her.

"I think she should be the one to tell you, if you want to sit and wait for her you can," says Amy, frowning. The man stands up straight, looking between Amy, Toby, and his watch. After a moment he takes a seat in the waiting room. Toby instantly sits up straight, not wanting to seem shorter or lesser in comparison.

A little bit later, Spencer's office door flies open and a clear trophy wife storming out; behind her was an older man who was smiling. Spencer comes out next talking to another man, with whom she shook hands with and gave him a curt polite smile as he left. The British man waiting was up and walking towards her within seconds.

"Who is that guy, and what haven't you told me?" he asks, his tone accusing.

"He's a detective, and he's here about a case, Wren," she replies, lying. Toby recalls how she had said she had no secrets for A to expose. Could it be that she had lied to him yesterday?

"As much as I want to believe that, Amy's reaction made it clear that he's not just here to help you with a case!" replies Wren, frowning.

"It's a big case; it might even have to do with A. So I can't tell you much right now," replied Spencer, her eyes shifting over to look at Toby for a moment.

"Fine," replies Wren, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on her lips. Toby could feel his stomach clinch in jealousy. He really wished that she was single.

"Is there something I can do for you officer?" asks Spencer, turning to look at him. Toby tries not to smile at how she looks now that she's flustered.

"Yeah, I just have a few questions for you," replies Toby, standing so he can move closer to her. She motions for him to follow her into her office. Once they're booth inside he closes the door, locking it (not wanting someone to come into the room and over hearing what they're talking about), and she crosses her arms and waits. "Do you remember where you were about two weeks ago?"

"Two weeks ago?" she repeats, clearly she's trying to think back. Toby can't help but watch her; her brows crinkle and she sticks her lip out just a little. How could he not smile at such a beautiful woman who seems cute no matter what she was doing? It wasn't possible, that's how. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" he replies innocently, though he had a feeling it had to do with him watching and smiling at her.

"You're staring at me," she replies, "It's unnerving…"

"Well that's good, since I need to know how to make suspects talk," he jokes, smiling more when he sees her smile at his joke.

"You must be good at it then, because I feel like I should tell you every bad thing I've ever done," she replies, her eyes meeting his. For one moment he felt trapped in her eyes, and it was a trap he didn't want out of, "I think… I was out clubbing with my friends."

"Do you remember what clubs you went to?" he asks.

"No, but I can ask my friend Hanna, she'd probably remember," she replies, leaning on her desk, "Why do you ask?"

"It's just a theory," replies Toby, resisting the urge to move closer to her.

"Tell me about it," she asks.

"Basically it's that A picks their victims after they've killed their previous victim," replied Toby, "If you were near where we found the body, then maybe that's why A has… chosen you."

"So it's based on being at the wrong place at the wrong time," she replies, suddenly looking scared and sad, causing Toby to quickly move close enough to wrap his arms around her tinny frame. She leans into him, hugging him back. He doesn't know how long they stay like that, but it's a knock on her office door that pulls them apart. "Thank you for that, Detective Cavanaugh, but both of us should probably get back to work."

"I'll let you know if we find out anything else about A," he promises, as he unlocks her door to leave, "Just remember to leave with others, and be careful… Miss Hastings."

"Understood," she replies, rolling her eyes at him, but he can see a faint smile on her lips, though he can still see in her eyes that she's scared, sad, and worried.

The rest of the day seems to drag for Toby, as he keeps thinking about Spencer and how tiny and helpless she felt in his arms. He wanted to go back to her and tell her that she could break down with him, that he wouldn't judge her, that he would be willing to protect her, and let her cry into his shirt. Yet he also knew that he shouldn't do that. That was what her boyfriend was for… right? It hadn't seem that she was willing to let Wren (the name she called him if he remembered right), tell him that her life was in danger, or at least that is might be. In reality, for all Toby knew, those dolls weren't A's just some other sickos instead (though that was extremely unlikely). Other than her having a boyfriend, there was no reason for him not to pursue her (not that he would try to take another man's girlfriend knowingly). It wasn't illegal for him to date her in anyway. The only thing that could really stop him (other than the boyfriend he wanted to forget that she had) was the possibility of A killing her or harming her in anyway. Though he has a feeling that he wouldn't be able to handle it if something happened to her, whether they were dating or not. It was unnerving to think about how she's managed to take part of his heart, and she didn't even know it.

He left to head home around eleven, but he had a feeling that maybe Spencer would still be at her office, ignoring his advisement. So he takes a right, when his apartment would have been to the left. He weaves through the streets, until he's in front of her office. He parks his bike, looking around to see if there was any suspicious people waiting around, but he saw nothing (no people nor cars). He dismounts his bike and heads in. He finds her at her desk, typing away at something.

"Didn't I tell you leave with other people?" he asks, causing her to jump.

"You scared me, Detective Cavanaugh," she replies, her hand lying over her heart.

"Sorry, but you should head home," he says, loving the site off her frown. It is oddly sexy.

"I have some more work that I need to finish," she replies, going back to typing. Toby lets out a sigh, before taking a seat on the couch in her office. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to wait until you're done," he replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. She gives him a look; it screams that she doesn't understand why he's doing what he's doing. "I can't let you walk home alone when there is a psycho after you."

"I'm not a damsel in distress; I don't need a knight in shining armor," she retorts, rolling her eyes at him. He shoots her a smile as she goes back to work. He silently watches her as she works, as she reacts to the things she's reading on her computer, and as she types. He finds it hard not to watch her, she's captivating. He waits quietly until she finally lets out a frustrated sigh and closes everything down. "So are you giving me another ride home?"

"That was the plan, as long as that is okay with you," he replies, smiling at her. She gives him a nod, and he leads her to his bike.

**/-+-+-/|\+-+-+\**

Spencer wasn't sure why she has been letting in this detective she'd only met a day ago, but here she is on the back of his motorcycle, cling to him for dear life. There was something about him that she loved, something that made her knees weak and her heart pound. She couldn't help but marvel at how agile he is on his bike, zipping in-between the cars that were out and about at this time of night. She also couldn't' help but worry about him, since he had given her his only helmet.

"Here we are," he says, breaking her out of her thoughts. How they always seemed to get to her house in record time was beyond her.

"Thank you, Detective Cavanaugh," she says, dismounting the bike and taking off his helmet, "Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? It's pretty late and I'd rather not hear about a tired motorcyclist getting into an accident." He laughs at her joke, but nods his head in agreement. He follows her in, and he looks out of place instantly. He is just a regular guy (maybe with some bad boy in him), and in her lavish upscale building lobby he looks like he's a potential robber. She's silently thanking god for making it so late that no one who would be a rude stuck up bitch/bastard about Detective Cavanaugh being with her right now. They ride alone in the elevator, neither one saying anything (it dawning on both of them what typically happens when two people who are attracted to each other go up to get coffee together). She fumbles a little for her key, partly because she doesn't want to think of him seeing her fumbling as a sign of anything, or that is she hadn't fumbled that that was a sign. Now she was just confusing herself. She unlocks her door, holds it open long enough for him to follow her in, and places her keys in a small bowl off to the side of the door.

"Is your landlord allowed to bring in packages for you?" Detective Cavanaugh asks, looking at a medium sized brown box sitting on her kitchen counter.

"Yep, I signed a piece of paper and everything," she replies, moving past him to make coffee, "You can take a seat in the living room, the coffee will be ready soon."

He nods, heading over to her lavender couch, and her eyes watching him. She shook the inappropriateness out of her head and grabbed a knife to help her open the package she'd received.

"How long have you lived here?" he asks, while she notes that his eyes on her. It was intimidating to think that he could make her feel so special and yet so miniscule all with the same look.

"Since I graduated from law school… my parents gave it to me as a graduation present," she replies, "I had the job at Sullivan & Cromwell, and I needed a home here in New York…"

"How rich is your family? I mean my old apartment wouldn't even take up half of this living room," he says, a smile on his lips. Her family was the fifth richest family in the United States, and Spencer both hated and loved it. She loves that she never has had to worry about money, clothes, or food, but she hates how her family's name alone could scare people off from her and draw them closer for the wrong reasons. Her older sister, Melissa, was on to her fourth husband due to always choosing gold diggers, her mother and father where always fighting it seemed, and then there was her, riddled with trust issues due to her fear that everyone was after her for her family's money (she trusted her best friends, they also came from wealthy families too, and she trusted Wren, though it had taken him awhile to gain that trust).

"I guess you could say that," she replies, "And what do you mean by old apartment?"

"My dad died about six months ago, he left me a house in Glendale, been living there since," he replies. Spencer notices that he looks almost indifferent about the house and his dad. She had planned to ask him about why he seemed so indifferent about his father, but when she opens the box she can't help but let out a sudden scream. Toby's by her side in less than a second, looking into the box. Inside was a Raggedy Anne doll, with brown yarn instead of red for hair (she'd guess that doll is supposed to be her), and a bloody knife sticking though the head of said doll. Spencer hides her head in Toby's shirt when he takes the doll out of the box, she couldn't look at the thing without feeling her stomach clench. "Have you told your detective friend about what you did to your sister? – A"

"My sister?" she repeats, her memory blanking on what A could mean. She and her sister had always been at each other's throats, and they had both, in a metaphorical sense, slit the other's throat from time to time (though Melissa always seemed to be the one slitting Spencer's throat instead of the other way around).

"What is the worst thing you ever did to your sister?" he asks, gently rubbing her back in a comforting way.

"I once had an affair with her… fiancé," she replies, regret thick in her voice, "At the time I didn't know that he was her fiancé; when I found out I broke it off!"

"Does your sister know?" he asks, un-purposely trailing a finger along her spine. Spencer bites her lip, not wanting to let out a moan that was trying to escape her lips.

"I never told her, but she knows. When she caught him with another mistress, he told her about me and others," she replies, leaning closer into him as he kept rubbing her back. It was comforting (as long as he didn't trail a finger along her spine, then it was oddly erotic).

"Then A can't use it against you," he replies, "A uses secrets that are unexposed. I think they have more of their sick psycho fun when they expose secrets that are actual secrets."

"So because Melissa knows that I had an affair with her fiancé… A can't use it against me?"

"Right; A is probably trying to give you a scare and see what it causes you to expose to them and others," replies Toby, "I should take this doll to the station and have someone–"

"But you'll stay tonight, right?" she asks, her tone sounding more fearful than she would have liked it to be.

"I'll sleep on your couch for tonight, if that will make you feel better," he says, smiling at her sweetly.

"Thank you," she replies, smiling back him.

The next morning, Spencer almost forgets that Toby's on her couch (she had almost walked into the living room with her hair all messy and her clothes crumpled and slept in, a state that she refused to let anyone see her in). She fixed herself up enough to be presentable, and then she walked out of her room and made her morning coffee. She tried not to look at Toby, who was still sleeping. She is sure that he had to be uncomfortable sleeping in his jeans and on her couch, but he had stayed there all night, making her feel safe and protected. She sipped her coffee, trying not to watch him sleep. God, he was cute while he was sleeping, though she couldn't think about that (she did have a boyfriend, who loved her). She finished her cup and started to get ready for her work, dressing in a black pencil skirt, white button up blouse, and a pair of black Gucci pumps. When she leaves her room, she finds Toby sipping a cup of coffee, looking so sexy with his hair all messy like that.

"I have a boyfriend," she quietly reminded herself.

"Morning," he says, his voice tired and raspy.

"Thank you for staying the night," she says, trying not to let her mind wonder into an inappropriate place about Toby.

"No problem, Miss Hastings," he replies, "It's kind of my job."

"It's you job to protect the people, you didn't have to spend the night," she says, sipping on some coffee.

"It still wasn't a problem," he replied, finishing his cup of coffee. She watches as he quickly washes her cup out, before moving to dry and put it away. "I should probably get going; I'll take this package with me. Be careful, don't work too late tonight, okay."

"Yes sir," she teased, seeing him out. Despite having a boyfriend, she had wished that he would lean into her or something that would mean they would touch each other, even if it is his hand grazing hers. Once he has left, her day continued as it normally would have, which went by quickly. Though she did notice that Wren didn't stop in to bring her lunch like normal, and she's isn't surprised when Toby knocked on her door, a frown on his handsome face.

"Miss Hastings, you really should listen to my advice," he says, moving over to her desk.

"Sorry Detective Cavanaugh," she says, "I lose track of time when I work…"

"I'll take you to grab some dinner, if you turn the computer off right now."

"Where would you be taking me?"

"Any place you'd like, within reason."

"Okay, just give me a second." Toby gives her a smile, while she turns off her computer, puts files away, and locks everything up.

She has him take her to a little hole in the wall 24hr dinner. He doesn't bring up A, the doll, or anything that would remind her of the situation she's in. Hell he even makes her forget about Wren (she's not sure if that's good or bad). She knows that if this thing between them continues like it is, she'll let him in and she'll fall quickly. The worst part is that she isn't afraid of letting him; she's always wanted someone who could bring her walls crashing down, but she was also horribly afraid of that person. They would hold all the power in the relationship if that happened, and that's one thing that Spencer Hastings needed to have. She needed the control (or at least she thought she did).

**\+-+-+\Author Note/-+-+-/**

So I'm in the 2nd season I just watched the Halloween prequel episode, and I wonder if that scary story Alison tells at the beginning.

I feel like I need to point out how each character's section (other than A's) is a regular chapter for my other things, so this is like two chapters in one.

I must really like you guys ;)

I'd **love** to hear **feedback positive or negative**, but please, for the love of whatever you find holy, **REVIEW**!

I do believe that most stories are victims of **bystander syndrome**. You assume that someone else will, never thinking that maybe no one will.

So always **REVIEW** and **I'll love you unconditionally** if you do so!


	3. And Into The Bar Walks A…

**Fragile China Dolls**

**/-+-+-/And Into The Bar Walks A…\+-+-+\**

Spencer couldn't wipe the smile from her face, even as she watched The Danes sign their divorce papers. Her smile being the work of a certain detective, who made her feel so protected that her normal walls where dust littering the ground. She didn't understand how he was able to do that, epically since she's only known him for about five days (though it could be six, she wasn't really sure). Maybe that was his is superpower. He made people feel safe and weaseled out any and all of their secrets. Though she would never admit it, Spencer was falling for him. Sure she was still in the beginning of the falling, but still she was falling. None of this was fair though to Wren; he's loved her for years, poked and prodded at her until she caved to him, and he has always treated her like a princess (but not to an annoying extant). She didn't love him though (maybe she had even been falling before Toby, but she couldn't say she was now). Spencer bit her lip, trying to think of the best way to tell Wren that she could no longer date him. Would the truth be too cruel? Or would telling him a lie be worse? She can't help but sigh frustrated at the dilemma.

"Am I interrupting something?" asks Wren, standing in her doorway. Spencer looked at her clock, surprised that it was already lunch time.

"No, just thinking," she replies, wondering how to bring up a break up (having never let anyone in, she never had to break any hearts before).

"Good, because I wanted to drop of some lunch for you," he says, placing a bag on her desk. He doesn't lean into her though, and Spencer knows that's not a good sign, "I love you Spencer, but I don't think you've ever loved me, and you never tell me the whole story. I can't take it anymore! You need to either tell me the truth or we're done."

"You're right, I don't love you like you love me," she sates, "I can't keep sting you along, it's not right to you and I'm… sorry." She doesn't look at Wren, too afraid to see how he's reacting.

"We've been dating for almost two years, and you never loved me?"

"No, I never did, and I'm sorry!"

"You're a cold, heartless harpy," says Wren, storming out of the office. Once the door slammed shut she can't help the tears; while she had been the one to break his heart, he's pierced her fragile self-esteem (which she can thank her family for, since they made her feel like nothing she ever did was really good enough) with three words. She knows that she is the villain in all of this, but she can't stop the tears.

She manages to calm herself enough to let Amy know that she was not to be disturbed unless it was important. She locks her door and quietly sobs. She knows she is being unprofessional in doing so, but she can't stop the tears from falling from eyes and she knew that she wouldn't make it home without sobbing, and there was no way (in hell or on earth) that she was going to cry in front of a stranger. She does attempt to read emails and respond to them, but only two people of the over 50 that contact her get a response that makes sense that day. She pretends not to hear her phone when it goes off (it's not that she doesn't want to talk to anyone, she's just afraid of sounding like a weak sniveling girl if she answers the phone).

She also manages to calm herself enough to do some research on a potential case about royalties about some psychology book that she had never heard of. She hasn't chosen if she was willing to take the case or not, so she is researching to see if she had the chance to win for the woman's case. The research was enough to take her mind off what Wren had called her, and about he might be right on some level. She isn't the best with emotions, and it isn't from not having them, it is just that she doesn't like opening herself up to the possibility of being hurt.

Then again there was Detective Toby Cavanagh. Toby has managed to become a part of her life much faster than anyone she had ever known. It was his job to find A and put them behind bars, but she has a feeling that he is going more than above and beyond to keep her safe. If felt more like he was her boyfriend and that he was willing to do anything to keep her safe (this thought made her smile instantly).

Toby wasn't attractive in the most conventional way (you'd look at him in a bar and you'd be interested, but another man could easily distract a woman), but once you had a conversation with him, it was hard to not want him around. He was sweet, protective, loving (despite only knowing her for such a short amount of time), and that added to his handsome features makes her heart pound, her mouth form a smile, her knees weak, and sent a heat she couldn't place through her body.

She's just turned her computer off and was putting her things away, when she heard a knock at her office door. She looks at her clock and smiles, knowing that it had to be Toby. She unlocks her door and smiling when she sees the beautiful blue eyes that belong to Toby. He smiles back at her for a moment, before the smile falls.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his hands coming up to her cheeks, gently cupping her face and making sure she's looking at him.

"Wren and I broke up…" she starts, noting a little bit of joy coming to his eyes at this, "I told him how I don't love him – how I never have – and he called me a cold, heartless harpy."

"You don't fell cold to me," he replies, now rubbing his thumb gently along her jaw. She leans into it, relishing in how nice it feels and how she enjoys the heat that courses though her, "I don't see any talons or feathers, so you certainly aren't a harpy."

"What about him calling me heatless?" she asks. He smiles, taking one of her hands and placing it where her heart is (with his hand on top of hers).

"You feel that pounding?" he asks. She nods, knowing what he was getting at. "You clearly have a heart; it's pounding right now." She looks at him, wondering if she could lean up and kiss him and what would happen. She's too afraid to do it though (good forbid he rejected her).

"Would you mind taking me out to get wasted?" she asks.

"Where would you like to go?" he asks, giving her a sweet smile.

"I don't care where, just some place where I can get alcohol," she replies. He nods, his hand entwining with hers (finally pulling their hands from above her chest), and he leads her to his bike. He pauses for a moment, before handing her a black and purple helmet. She stares at it, as he pulls his plain black helmet on. It's a helmet meant for her, it's hers and it's from him. It was just another sign that he cared for her, and that he cared for her. She pulls the helmet on her head, takes a seat behind him, and wraps her arms around him tightly. He speeds though the streets and the bridge. He's taking her into Queens (she figured that this is an area he knows). He comes to a slow stop outside a dive bar. Once the bike is fully parked, he helps her off the bike, opening the seat to put the helmets. He even holds the door for her too.

"That your girlfriend?" asks a man behind the bar, smiling at the two.

"No, Saul. This is Spencer–"

"Oh that woman you were telling me about? The one who you think might be the o–"

"Saul!" says Toby, his cheeks turning red. Spencer could feel her own cheeks tinting, wondering what Toby had told his man about her, epically when they weren't even dating yet. Spencer bit her lip, the last word of that sentence weighing down on her, despite how little it is. Part of her – a big part – wanted Toby to make a move that could start a relationship, but she doubted that he would. He seemed like the kind of guy who would wait for her to make a move (then he'd make a bigger gesture to show that he respected).

"Sorry kid," replies Saul, though his smile shows that he really isn't that sorry, "So what'd you like?"

"Vodka soda, please?"

"Coming right up," says Saul, grabbing some vodka and mixing it with some club soda. Spencer downs it quickly, ignoring the surprise on both men's face. Saul makes her more drinks, and she downs them all, until she hears a slow melody playing form a jukebox that sits in the corner of the bar. She sees a few people start to dance slowly around the bar. Her eyes wonder to look at Toby; he's sipping a brand of beer she's never heard of.

"Would you like to dance?" she asks, the alcohol giving her courage. Toby looks surprised, but he stands up and pulls her to him. They dance slowly and sweetly on the floor. He's warm and Spencer can't help but relish in his sent. His clothes smell like lavender and his person smells like dirt, sweat, and soap. Wren has always smelled like an overpriced detergent, fabric softener, and cologne. She prefers Toby's sent so much more than Wren's.

She places a feather kiss on his neck, causing him to still. He pulls away from her and looks down at her (she'd kicked off her pumps before she'd asked him dance and he's about six or so inches taller than her). Her eyes lock with his and she slowly starts to rise herself up so that maybe she could introduce her lips to his, but he beats her to it. The feel of his lips on hers is perfect; it's hard enough to display desire, but soft enough to be sensual, his lips taste like the beer he'd been drinking, and his mouth is warm. She never wants his lips to pull away from hers. The loss of his lip is excruciating, but they both need air. She's not sure if it's the alcohol that's making her want him, but she does.

"How far away do you live from here?" she asks quietly, after they'd sat back down by their drink. He takes a sip of his drink before he answers.

"Three blocks," he says, his voice sounding strained.

"Would you take me home?"

"You want to go home?"

"I would like to see your house…"

**\+-+-+\|/-+-+-/**

People should know not to leave their drinks unsupervised, especially with a psychopath on the loose, and certainly when slipping some Milizopan into a drink is so easy. They smile as the two leave, wondering how they can get the detective into his police blues.

They really want to see how blood looks on that shade of blue.

**/-+-+-/|\+-+-+\**

Toby can't get over how soft Spencer's lips are, and he's happy that he gets to know that. He's happy that she's his, even if it's for this moment. Her arms are wrapped around his waist as he pulls into his drive way. They tumble though the door connecting the garage to the door, he disconnects from her long enough to make sure the door is locked and that his alarm system is up and running. He'd gotten it for his father after some burglaries had happened in the neighborhood (it is sate of the art, even to date). Once he has the lock numbers punched in, he pushes the enter button, and pushes Spencer against the wall. She smiles up at him, before he crashes his lips against hers. He pulls at her waist closer to him, causing her to arch into him. He can feel her hands pushing away his jacket as he gently pulled her silk blouse out of her skirt. As he pulls them towards the stairs he hears her shoes being kicked off, his own boots landing somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, and his jacket hitting the floor. He disconnects his lips from hers and picks her up to carry up the stairs.

He places her down on the soft carpet and she pushes his shirt off his head. He bites his lip as she looks his chest over, and he bites back the moan that rises in his throat when her soft touch ghosts over his chest. From where he's standing she looks tiny and introverted, gently exploring his chest. It's almost like she'd never seen a man so close without a shirt.

"Wren never would take his shirt off," she sates, confirming his silent statement. "It was always… quick and…"

"Impersonal," he sates, trying to help her find the words she was looking for. She nods and looks up at him, her bottom lip between her teeth. She looks so sexy, and he can't help but lean down and take that lip between his. He backs her into a wall, gently touching her skin over her blouse. Spencer gently pushes him away, and he moves away from her willing. She unbuttons her blouse, pulling it off her own skin, before she pulls him back to her, guiding his hands to just below the swell of her breasts. Toby moved his hand down to the zipper of her skirt, tugging it down and letting the skirt fall to the ground. He pulls away to stare at her perfect frame. Her body is clade in just a black lace covered teal bra with matching panties. \

She's perfect. She's flawless. She's beautiful. She's his… for right now.

"Stop that," she says, frowning at him.

"Stop what?" has asks, smiling at her.

"You have this stare that makes me feel like I'm tiny and small, but also like I'm the only person in the room that matters."

"You are the only other person in this room."

"You know what I mean."

"Personally I think you are the only person in the room that matters, even when there are others in the room."

"Why?"

"You're beautiful, smart, and kind."

"Liar," she teases, her frown turning into a smile.

"I'd never lie to you," he says.

"Prove it," she replies. Toby smiles at her, remembering they're state of dress.

"Not when we're both in this state," he says, moving towards his bed room, "I'll be right back with a shirt you can just throw on over yourself."

He hears the springs of his mattress stress while he's going through his dresser. He turns to see Spencer lying out on his bed, looking sexy as hell. She's smiling at him, giving him a look to come closer, to take her, to love her. He wants to (so much more then he'd ever has wanted anything else in his life), but he can't. Not yet. Not when either of them is completely sober. And not when he could possibly have a relationship with her. He pulls out an old t-shirt (a smile crossing his face when he thinks of her wearing his clothes).

"Here," he says, approaching her. She sits up, and he gently pulls the shirt over her head and on to her body, "So what can I say to show you that I won't lie to you."

"How many girls have you slept with?" she asks, as he lies down on the bed next to her. They aren't touching, just next to each other.

"I've had actual sex with two girls, I've had three, different, girls give me oral, and one girl gave me an awkward hand job that I'd rather forget about."

"Now you have to tell me about it."

"Do I have to?"

"Yeah, please?"

"Her name was Rose, we were making out and she just stuck her hand down my pants. She kept making these weird noises and asking me if it felt as good as it felt for her."

"Did she get you off?"

"After I closed my eyes and pretended that she was Christina Aguilera."

"You have a thing for Christina Aguilera?"

"I thought she was hot at the time, and when you don't want to hurt a girl's feelings…"

"Would you have had to imagine her for me?"

"Hell no, you would have to have the nastiest personality in the world for my not to want you."

"So you want me right now?"

"Yes, but I'd like to actually get to know you before we–" He's cut off by Spencer unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them in a fluid motion.

"Spencer, he says, trying to use her name as a warning. She ignores him, pushing her hand down into his pants and boxers. Her soft fingers wrap around his member, she stats slow, looking at his face. If Toby had to guess, he'd guess that she was studying him to see how he's doing. She gains momentum slowly, until she finds a pace that he clearly likes. When her name slips out again, it's like a prayer and a cry. He tittered over the edge, spilling on to her hand and ruining his boxers.

"Did you like that, baby?" she asks, her tone joking. Toby grabs the back of her head and pulled her lips to his, answering her question without words. They pull apart, so that she can clean her hands and he can change out of his dirty clothes. He'd just pulled on a pair of pajama pants when she comes back out. She looks tired; almost tripping and falling on to the ground. Instead she catches herself and climbs into his bed. She snuggles into his sheets and pillows, and he joins her (smiling). He doesn't pull her closer, but he can smell her perfume. To him is smells like a perfect summer day. It was scent he felt like he could get drunk on.

**\+-+-+\Author Note/-+-+-/**

Originally I had planned to do a lemon, but I felt like it was too soon for them, and not to mention they're both drunk and someone is/was drugged.

So I would have had this up sooner, but I've been working my two jobs and have had little to no time.

Also I'm sorry Toby's section was so short, but I wanted the morning after to be from Spencer's POV, and thus the next chapter.

I'd **love** to hear **feedback positive or negative**, but please, for the love of whatever you find holy, **REVIEW**!

I do believe that most stories are victims of **bystander syndrome**. You assume that someone else will, never thinking that maybe no one will.

So always **REVIEW** and **I'll love you unconditionally** if you do so!


End file.
